


My Hero

by Asauna



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-06
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asauna/pseuds/Asauna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altair is lost in the heat of battle and may end up finally meeting his match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Just something short I did for a friend. I'm no good at action sequences

Aged swords were quick to clash against one another in the heat of battle, teeth bared by a robed male as grunts slipped past his scarred lips. The man, who was adorned in white and red robes, had all but forgotten that battles that were occurring around him for they were not worth his time. Rather, the man that he was currently fighting was a formidable opponent and offered him a challenge, as opposed to the other's brethren who would have been nothing more than a quick kill. But it seemed that the robed man had bitten off more than he could chew, for the steel-clad man before him was stronger and trained more than that of the average soldier.  

Sweat dripped down the assassin's face though he paid no mind, wishing that he could discard his robes and fight bare. But then again, they did help to ease the occasional blow that slipped past him and his skilled movements. The assassin gave a pained grunt as he was pushed backwards, looking to the other man who wore a red cross upon his chest which was embroidered to the cloth that hung over his armor. This stranger was far stronger than his brothers. He must've been one of the higher in command- That much was for sure.

Altair was quick to step out of the way of the Templar's steel, swinging his own sword in return, hoping to create an impact. But it was instantaneous that his move had been blocked and he had in fact been pushed away by the other. Altair would have been fine if there had not been a root of a nearby tree in the way of his footing, causing him to lose balance and fall backwards. His sword slipped from his gloved fingers, rolling upon the ground beside him and finding itself just out of immediate reach.

His eyes sharpened, looking away from the fallen weapon as he heard the whistle of the Templar's blade coming towards him, turning quickly and raising his left arm to deflect the blow as best as he could. The metal upon his vambrace caught the impact, protecting his neck and chest from the swing that would have done him in. He needed a way out of this situation, and fast, or else he would be sure that he'd found a worthy opponent... But how could such a thing happen to him? He was Altair. He was a Master assassin in skill despite the fact that his rank had been stripped away. But that was what he was working to achieve once more.

He turned to roll away from the Templar as the man above raised his sword again, but Altair choked out a pained gasp as he felt the sword pierce the robes that had served as his armor, pain forming from his arm and across his chest, only becoming worse since the stranger had caught him mid-roll. The assassin grit his teeth once more, ignoring the pain that formed from the wound which extended to his fingers and toes. Quickly, Altair shuffled to his feet and reached out for his sword once more. He held it in his right hand, starting to move towards the Templar, their swords returning to their awkward dance. But what was different this time was that Altair's attacks were not as strong as they had been. And it seemed he easier to push around. The assassin's breath was quickened as he tried to ignore the pain, feeling the sticky crimson slip between him and his robes at a worrying rate, now trying to focus all his energy on attempting to figure a way out of this situation.

Again, the assassin was forced back with a strong push from the Templar, falling upon his stomach with a low groan. He tried to get back on his feet, though his hands and feet were starting to feel cold and numb. The more he pushed himself, the faster he bled. His injury was one that was both deep and long, proving to be a lethal one. Whilst trying to get to his feet, he ended up slipping on the loose ground, falling back down. What good was he? Perhaps he was no master assassin if he allowed this wound to take such a toll upon him. He had been in worse situations before, after all. So why was this one any different?

Altair rolled onto his side once more upon hearing the whirring of the Templar's steel push through the air, waiting for impact again after raising his arm with the metal-clad vambrace, though he wasn't sure how much more of a fight he could put up. It seemed that this Templar would be the lucky one to bring down the great Altair- All because he was foolish enough to believe he was able to fight alone.

But there was a sudden flurry of white and blue robes that swiftly moved over him, the sound of metal upon metal echoing where he once stood. He trailed over the form of the one that had jumped in his way, knowing the familiar color scheme all-too much.

Before him, Malik stood, grunting a little as he pushed back the Templar a few paces with the strength he possessed behind his sword. Though he was missing a limb, it seemed he had not lost his ability to fight. Rather, he seemed to be more willful than some of the other assassin's. He already had a physical disadvantage, but that didn't mean he wasn't strong of body and swift of mind. Malik brought his sword upon the Templar's body, able to dodge the swing from the enemy and retaliate with one of his own.

The Dai dragged the weapon across the man's chest, piercing the cloth and metal beneath, though didn't touch his skin with the tip of his sword. At least, not yet. The Templar kicked Malik back, causing the assassin to stumble a little although he never fully lost his balance. He quickly fixed his stance in time to block the blade of the enemy. The tanned male chanced a quick glance back at the injured assassin who watched in confusion and pain though he spoke of neither, Altair finally moving to his feet after being watched momentarily. His movements were sluggish compared to what they should have been, and he didn't dare reach for the heavy weapon upon the ground. Rather, he pulled out his dagger that some could've mistaken for that of a short-sword, turning around as he heard another voice approach their battle.

Back-To-Back they fought, Altair trying to ward off a lower-ranked enemy as Malik took the higher. How had it come to this? How had the Dai and himself switched places so suddenly? Altair was supposed to be the top dog. He was supposed to be the one fighting off the trained Templar. Not Malik, who was starting to grow tired of the fight. Despite his stubborn attitude, sometimes, Malik could find himself losing the strength to fight- Especially in a one-on-one fight like this. Every move he made was deflected and returned by the Crusader. Each attack he made was countered from here-on-in. And just as Altair had faired, he was doing worse with the lack of extra strength thanks to his missing limb.  

It seemed that just as Malik managed to land a blow against the Templar, the enemy had done the same to him. The assassin's sword once more pierced the metallic suit that the man wore, feeling his sword come in contact with flesh. It was a short-lived victory within his head, a searing pain that tore down his chest in the form of a slash replacing the joy he had felt with the horrid sensation. He'd been hit in his chest which caused him to stagger back a little and bump into Altair who'd just driven his blade into the stomach of the man he was fighting. But rather than be stunned, Malik used Altair as leverage and pushed against him, using the newfound momentum as he encountered the Templar again, ducking down beneath the other's swing before forcing his sword into the man's side, twisting it. A cry of pain came from the metallic fighter, though rather than crumple to the ground like his comrades would have done, he raised his sword and forced it into the right side of the assassin's back before withdrawing it despite the pain that tore through him with nauseating intensity, moving to repeat the action though found that his blade had been knocked from his hand by Altair, who had turned around once more to watch Malik only in time to see him be struck.

White pain blinded the Dai, biting back a cry of pain as he forced his sword farther into the Templar, twisting it more until the man fell over against his will, the pain being too much for him to bear. Malik loomed over the body of the Templar that had given both Altair and himself a run for their money, feeling blood slip from the wound upon his chest and the deep puncture within his back. He reached to retrieve his sword from the fallen fighter, though felt the pain that slid through him crippled him enough to force the Dai onto his knees.

This pain was similar to what he experienced during his long ride home from Jerusalem the fateful day that his life had been twisted inside-out, so now not only pain was destroying him, but the memories were racing inside his head. Panting still, he turned to look towards Altair who was by his side now, an arm hugged carefully around him as if to try and steady him. "Novice." The Dai spoke, his voice low and eyes angered. This was, again, all Altair's fault. He had only come to protect the other and allow him the chance to rise to his feet despite being injured. But no, it had turned into something much more and now, he would probably die for the man.

Altair deserved to be the one in his position. It was his fault that there were deaths all around. It started with the life of his brother, then the lives of fallen assassin's when Masyaf was attacked, and now this raid on Jerusalem which would have not ended well without some assassin's being in the neighborhood. But it seemed that things would be alright, for Malik listened past the ringing in his ears and heard less sounds of battle. If there was still a danger, Altair would still be fighting after all

He watched the other's lips move and half-heartedly strained to hear what Altair was saying. He was probably trying to make up some excuse as to why this wasn't his fault. That idiot. But it wasn't more than a few moments more that Malik remained conscious, his final thoughts drifting away as he paid only mind to Altair, trying to trace the contours of his worried expression.  
===

A soft groan slipped past the dry lips of the man that had been laying in his bed, registering the pain that throbbed through his marred body. Pushing past the pain he was feeling, he tried to recall what had happened last. There was Jerusalem and his maps. Then Altair appeared for his mission. He stayed for a moment to speak before leaving and then the next thing he knew, there were many Crusaders within his streets. He'd only found out when a novice had come to tell him of the events that were taking place nearby. The man remembered gathering his weapons and slipping out of the hidden door that allowed him onto the streets of his city before joining in on the fun.

He then remembered finding the scene of Altair fighting the Templar Captain- One of the men that were in charge of this whole ordeal and it seemed that this stranger was giving the master assassin a hard time. But then, anxiety and fear rolled through him as he watched the Crusader force Altair to the ground and inflict such a wound upon him. He was trying to make his way over there as quickly as he could in order to provide aid to Altair.

Although there would always be anger and hatred for Altair within Malik, there was also something more It was so hard to hold a grudge against a man that no longer existed. This Altair was different than the one from Solomon's temple. This Altair was someone completely different, having formed during the events of his training. He'd gotten Malik to smile once or twice, though the Dai refused to allow Altair to know such things. So how could the Dai want him dead, despite the feelings of anger he would always have? He was trying to push them to the back of his mind and live as normally as he could. Though he hated admitting it, Malik did care for Altair. He did worry, for he had recently been remembering the times of when they were novices. He always felt comfortable when with the other, even if Altair was being an idiot. It was Nice. If he could feel that way around the other now, who knows what would happen

"Malik?" A familiar voice chimed gently in the quiet of the room, filling in the calming silence. Malik would recognize that voice a mile away. So Altair was ok then? That was a relief. Even if he was the ass that caused this pain to him though not directly, Malik was glad his energy wasn't wasted, at least. He hadn't bothered opening his eyes just yet, too busy trying to ignore the aches of his body. "Novice" The Dai uttered with a scratchy voice. He allowed a small smile to tug up the corners of his lips to show Altair that he wasn't as angry as he could've and should've been, since he was put into this situation.

" Thank you." Was all Altair said as he stepped closer to the bedding and sat on the edge of it. They were back at the Bureau since he figured it was where Malik would've wanted to go to rest up after they had him bandaged. It'd been two days since the siege and Altair hadn't left the Bureau since. He wanted to be around when Malik woke and to make sure he was alright. He owed him this and so much more. The assassin reached out and brushed his finger's carefully against the pained man's cheek, watching as the Dai carefully and slowly began to open his eyes.

To Malik, everything was a blur at first and the dim light of the room from a candle that had been lit nearby. In this part of the Bureau- The part where novices were not allowed to enter, there was only one window and it was into the main living area which was the next room over. Malik didn't need a lot of room to be happy. After all, he lived alone and didn't need much to thrive. But soon enough, he could see straight. It didn't bother him that Altair was still touching him, but he was looking for any signs that he too might be in distress. But yet, there were none. "What of you?" Malik asked quietly and Altair peered down at himself. "I'll be fine." He assured, putting a hand over his chest, touching the wound over his bandages and robes.

"You should be too, as long as you rest. I'll stay here to keep an eye on you, until you tell me to go away." The assassin explained, watching and judging Malik's features. His brows arched before narrowing for a second, though soon enough, his face relax and he gave a small sigh. "Just don't dirty anything." He murmured, closing his eyes again. That small smile slipped back to his lips, a thought coming to mind. "Perhaps we could try a game of chess, when I'm up to it." He suggested quietly.

Altair paused in his thoughts as he heard the suggested, giving a small nod of the head. "Yes, we can do that. We can do whatever you like, Malik. But for now, just rest. I'll go fetch you some water." Altair said as he carefully slipped his fingers from the other's cheek sliding up from the bedding slowly. He touched his chest a little as if to ease away the aching pain, turning to start away. Malik opened his eyes as he heard the fading footsteps, watching as Altair slipped out of the room before giving a small sigh. Where had Altair been sleeping? On the pillows in the front of the Bureau, perhaps? Or maybe on the floor..?

He shifted his arm and legs slowly pushing himself to sit up slowly. He gasped at first and gave a small grunt at the feeling of pain sliding all through his torso and emanating outwards though he did his best to ignore it. It was another moment until Altair returned, holding a small hug that had been filled from the fountain in the front of the Bureau. The assassin paused for a moment when he noticed the Dai had sat up. His blankets had fallen to his waist, reveleaing his bare and bandaged torso.

"You should be laying." Altair urged, earning a small scoff from Malik. "And choke on the water? No." He said, watching the other step towards him and hold out the ceramic object. Malik grasped it carefully with his hand, taking a slow, long drink from what he'd been given. The cool water felt cool and crisp against his dry throat, which was a bit of a relief. He sighed once pulling it away, pausing for a second before peering at Altair. "Where have you been sleeping?" He questioned.

"Out in the front of the Bureau, upon the pillows." Altair said simply, watching Malik as he shifted slowly and carefully upon the bedding. The Dai turned his head to peer around, noticing that there was just enough room for the two of them to fit comfortably. "Well, how about you sleep here from now on. That won't do much good for you if you keep sleeping out there each night." He suggested, shrugging his shoulders as he peered at the jug, taking another sip.

Altair watched Malik with a confused expression, though nodded with a small smile. "I could do that.."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey look, no smut!


End file.
